Popingay

If gay were a choice, I’d choose gay

It’s well-documented that being gay is not a choice, and considering the one Xmas I received a calculator instead of a Tamagotchi, I’m pretty sure the power of prayer is even less effective at keeping me away from penises. But considering a hypothetical world where sexual orientation and gender identity were a choice, I can conclusively say that I would pick gay again, and again, and again.

“Why would anyone want to be gay if they had the choice?” I’ve heard this argument from queer folks and pitying straights alike who think that being gay (although innate) is a recipe for a difficult life of secrets and discrimination. And I’m not going to say that there aren’t struggles for queer individuals. We live in a largely unfriendly world, and even though there are wonderful people, and things are changing, the reality is that the world is not a wonderland for those on the rainbowy side of life.

But I’d rather ask, if we’re talking about your religious-socially-conservative version of heterosexuality as the alternative: who in their right mind would choose to be straight?

Your straightness is a culture of no. Living your life according to rigid sexual and gender roles to maintain your fragile sense of sexuality, gender, and self. As a man only willing to like sports, cars, beer, and objectifying women because you’re afraid that your love of ballet would somehow destroy your straightness. Or declaring the very end of the world itself because your son painted his toenails pink or likes to play with makeup. Or making your worth directly correlated to your attractiveness or the fertility of your womb. Because your kind of straight tells you no, no you cannot do, like, enjoy, or want whatever is in your heart.

But gayness, queerness, is a culture of yes! Yes I can profess my deep-seated love of musical theatre and shirtless men dancing to electronic music. Yes I can also like sports, or fatty foods, or watching horror movies in my sweatpants.

And sexually? If I enjoy being pounded by a hairy man-beast while trussed up like a Christmas turkey, then god damn it our community will let me go for it. Because if you don’t like it, well then fuck you.

And we stand up for each other’s right to be individuals, to choose our own paths in life free from judgement, interference, or control. It might not be what I want per se, but if it’s how you are, then you damn well better be running down the street in spangly gold booty shorts shrieking Beyonce tunes at the top of your lungs and grabbing your genitals. Whether lesbian, gay, bisexual, trans, queer, or whatever permutation under the umbrella you are, or if you’re our equally important straight allies, we are the ones who say YES. YES, BE YOURSELF!

Because it’s not just the fight for me to be fabulously gay, but the right for me to be fabulously, and unabashedly me no matter what that looks like.

Go ahead, tell me my life is sad and hard, and no one would or should want it. Because me, and all those with me, know who really has it hard, and we’ve got each other’s backs while you are busy stabbing your own.

So ask yourself again if being gay is a choice. Because if it were, then who would ever choose to be straight?

5 Online Gay Profile Photo Types With Sinister Undertones

In the alternately sexy and terrifying world of online dating there is no more important part to your profile than the profile photo. I’m sorry, we are a shallow, visually-driven culture of gay boys, and I don’t particularly care if we match on 29 ridiculous dimensions, because even if we have a personality match made in heaven, if your appearance makes me cringe in horror in a way only replicable by waking up next to the Burger King King Mascot, well, I’m pretty sure we aren’t going to get along.

Because I will never stop screaming from unimaginable terror.

Everyone knows how to carefully comb through their selection of personal photos to present themselves in the best light. And others resort to the infamous Myspace Angle. And why shouldn’t we? Put your best foot forward, and all that.

It does, however, open the door to some common seemingly-attractive profile photo types which belie their potentially horrible underbellies. Thankfully you have me to guide you through these possible pitfalls. I have used my extensive online profile crawling experience to list the 5 most common illusory profile photo types.

There is no limit to the number of random internet men I’ll bone in the name of consumer protection. I’m a giver.

—-

1. The Shirtless Torso
Translation: “With a paper bag and a light switch, I’m a total 10.”

The shirtless torso is a mainstay of guys who have something to hide, but are also total man-sluts. This profile photo type applies to a guy who is either cheating on someone (or is “straight”), is older but with an excellent body, or has something terrifyingly wrong with his face. That last one we call “Gary Busey Syndrome”.

This one isn’t a total wash. Depending on how attractive you find the torso, and whether you’re okay with a poorly-lit, paper-bag accessorized situation, you may have yourself a pretty good deal. Dude is down to get down. Just make sure that eye contact is kept to a minimum.

2. The Professional Photo
Translation: “I totally stole this photo of a porn star, or model whose image was unfortunately available on a royalty-and-permission-free stock photo site.”

I’ve always been confused about guys who use someone else’s photo for their profile. I mean, did you think that between saying yes and arriving at your house I was suddenly stricken with amnesia, but am still somehow wanting and willing to blow you?

This one’s pretty easy to spot. If the lighting, makeup, and photo touch-ups are too good, it’s likely that this is a professional photo ripped off a porn star or model. At best it’s some virulent narcissist who commissioned professional photos of himself in probably the most awkward Walmart Photo Studio appointment ever, or at worst it’s the picture of the victim the person last murdered and whose skin he’s now wearing while luring you into his trap.

All I can say for certain is that if you hook up with someone who is using a fake profile photo, the next time your loved ones see you it’s likely you will be chopped into small pieces encased in cement that unexpectedly wash ashore on the side of a river.

3. Hat & Sunglasses
Translation: “I’ve been charged with over 28 counts of sexual assault. Or I’m a spy.”

There’s nothing quite as unsettling as a photo with a guy in a hat and sunglasses. It’s a pretty basic way to disguise how you look, which pretty well merges all the worst attributes of the shirtless torso and the professional photo, only this time with the thin veneer of honesty.

All I can imagine is someone looking like this hanging around a playground surrounded by small children, and I’m pretty sure you can see where I’m going with this. Hint: it can only end in a “very special episode”.

Really, there are plenty of ways people can hide on their online profiles, and most of it is innocuous enough: you think you have too many crow’s feet, your nose is crooked, you have a receding hairline. No one is perfect, and you shouldn’t be ashamed about what you look like in order to attract someone. Plus, it’ll help separate the insecure from the terrifying Craigslist Killer types.

4. Such a Pretty Face
Translation: “As Jen Lancaster wrote: ‘a poster-child for such-a-pretty-face-isms’.” 

Unlike the nudity-fascists at Dudes Nude, not every site requires you to be in some way naked for acceptance into its folds. And thus is born the ultimate weapon of the “but you have such a pretty face” individual: the headshot.

Really it’s kind of the opposite of the shirtless torso. Instead of being a butter-face (a phrase that oddly doesn’t work with men—buthisface?), you’re kind of an only-the-face kind of person. Whether you’re hefty with that genetic gift for perfectly formed facial features, or you’re disguising the purple alien tentacle protruding from the chest, this man is definitely hiding something below the neck.

At least if you confine him to under the covers you’ll be okay just staring at that pretty face.

5. Incomprehensible Horror
Translation: “Run, oh for the love of god, leave the children and save yourself!”

And sometimes the boy is likely to turn you into a human flesh animatronic puppet. Or beat you to death under suspicion of being a zombie. Potentially a sociopathic serial killer, the person brave enough to advertise himself in a bloody shirt carrying a baseball bat can be nothing but good news. Right?

As the pillow slowly lowers over your face, you’ll live to regret that tragic, tragic mistake.

5 Horrible Things You Should Probably Know About Our Date

First dates are exciting: you’re getting to know someone new, having a good time, and, if you’re me, maintaining the thin veneer of pleasantness that belies the assholery underneath. I’ve had a lot of first date experience, and if you pull away the energetic, attentive, and interesting curtain as I’ve done below, you’ll probably see why second dates don’t really materialize.

1. I’m not really listening to you.
   This is where you learn what it’s like to be on a date with a possibly sociopathic narcissist. You see, I’m really good at asking leading questions, and getting you to feel comfortable telling me about yourself. In fact, I’m often told I’m a great conversationalist. Here’s the thing: just like you’re enjoying talking about yourself, I similarly find I’m my favourite topic. So like any good first date, I’m going to try and direct conversation back to you, but you probably should know that I’m just biding my time until I notice that words stop coming out of your mouth. Then I get to talk again. Likely about me. Think of it this way: you can tell the same stories over, and over, and over again, and I’ll appear as fascinated as the first time I didn’t listen. Probably because…
2. I’m imagining what you look like naked.
   Really, what gay boy isn’t in a perpetual state of horniness? While I’m waiting to get to hear the sound of my own voice again, I’m distracting myself thinking about what you’d look like naked, and what sex with you would be like. Hint: it’s pretty good. I’m generally hoping you’re doing the same thing, because I’m generally planning out the steps to get you in bed without the use of GHB. And if you are thinking the same thing? Well, double hint: I’m kind of easy.
3. I may be doing this just for the story.
   I never turn down an opportunity to get a good story. Really, if all else fails when I’m doing something, the least I can do is get a funny anecdote out of it (it adds to my arsenal of things I use to let me keep talking). So although I likely think you’re cute, fascinating, and really bangable, I may very well be trying to find a humorous angle I can exploit for a blog post. Because I’m dead inside.
4. I’m probably going to have my cell phone in arm’s reach.
   I’m sorry, but I am legally obligated to answer all my texts. Or I’m part of a scientific experiment that fused man and machine into one glorious telecommunicating cyborg. Or I’m lying to you and saying I’m a doctor because you’re gorgeous. Take your pick of excuse. Really, it’s that I have a deep-seated psychological need to be in constant contact with everyone around me, and even if I like you more than words can say, I just can’t bring myself to part with my cell for a whole evening. Seriously. I need help.
5. I really want you to like me.
   This just reeks of desperation, and I try not to make it apparent that I’d marry a toilet if it meant I could be in a relationship. I’m not quite follow-you-home-at-night-and-hover-over-your-prone-sleeping-body-desperate (I’m usually outside the window—I understand boundaries), but if I’m on a date with you, I’m probably wracked with nervousness on the inside and no matter how hard I try to disguise it (or medicate it), I’m probably dying a little on the inside because I probably do think you’re really cute, fascinating, or really bangable. And I’m not just saying this to end the post disarmingly vulnerable as a ploy to convince you I’m actually dateable. Point is I’m not a total monster. Though I am probably considering what you’d taste like roasted over coals if the whole date thing doesn’t pan out. Just saying.

Gay Love Horoscopes For 2011

Valentine’s Day is over, and we’re now recovering from spending it downing buckets of ice cream while sobbing to the 24-hour distress line. Or was that just me?

Since Valentine’s is like the New Year’s of love (it’s not), I’m sure most of you want to know what the next year holds for your love life. Typically the only way to get this information is to brave a collection of freaks at the local circus, and hold a gypsy at gunpoint. You still face the possibility of a gypsy curse, though, so to save you that unimaginable horror, I’ve gone ahead and done all the legwork. That poor girl at the bus stop kept screaming things about not being a gypsy, but several bullets to the knees cured her of that foolishness. You can’t trust their gypsy lies.

So gather ‘round Madame Kris as he tells you what this next year of love holds for you.

—-

Aries
Wikipedia tells me that “Arians like to be first”, and that’s usually the thought going through your head after you cum and leave the other party in a rapidly cooling pool of semen. At least throw him a towel next time before you ask him to leave. That’ll win you major karma points.

Taurus
God damn you’re a sexy sign. Everyone born under this sign is irresistible as a porn star dripping in honey-garlic sauce. I’d recommend asking everyone around the bar if he’s a Taurus, and if it’s yes, then you should blindly sleep with him immediately, and without question. That goes double if he’s named Kris.

Gemini
Your proclivity for three-ways with your twin will take you far in your chosen industry of Eastern-European-import porn. Sharing a love interest is kind of awkward though. I If you’re going to cut him in half, I’d suggest vertically, so you each get both face and genitals, though it may be a blessing in disguise to go horizontal if he’s a butter face.

Cancer
Wow. I’m not sure if there can be a less sexy sign. You should probably prepare for a life of loneliness, chemotherapy, and hospital food. At least the bedpans are convenient. And it won’t be that long a life. Keep looking on that bright side, and maybe a gold-hearted candy striper will make those last few moments a treasure.

Leo
Roar you sexy beast, roar indeed. Try making it a priority to be as whorey as possible in this upcoming year. Everyone deserves to run their hands through that thick, golden mane. Even if it’s all back hair. On second thought, you should really look into laser hair removal. Also, that giant bush is out, and I don’t care if it makes your junk look like a lion. Yes, even if you can make it roar.

Virgo
You’re totally one of those people who thinks that love comes with chocolates, flowers, and cuddling, aren’t you? Oh, honey. You’re cuter than a kitten playing with string. Here, have a drink. No, it’s supposed to fizz that way. That’s a good boy.

Libra
You don’t seem to have great a sense of humour. You’re all “babies aren’t for scientific testing”, “date rape isn’t funny”, and “crimes against humanity are wrong”. Buzzkill. You haven’t been any fun since you took that social justice class. I want the old Libra back, the one who agreed that “ethics” is just a nonsense phrase, like “you can’t have slaves”, and “no means no”.

Scorpio
I’m assuming that stinger is a thinly-veiled reference to your penis. In which case, good job. Keep hiding in people’s sneakers, and scuttling around deserts so you can jab unsuspecting people with that stinger. By which I mean have angry rage sex.

Sagittarius
You’re half horse and likely hung like one. Advertise this. Tell the world about your big, floppy genitalia and wait for the sex requests to come rolling in. Just try not to mention the Mr. Hands incident. No one’s really into perforated colons.

Capricorn
Sea-goat. Wow. I keep confusing your name with cornucopia, which makes me think of Thanksgiving meals, which leads me to believe you’re getting pretty fat. That’s just not conducive to attracting a mate. Maybe look into one of those fad diets, like the one where you only eat boiled cabbage for the rest of your days, and turn into a gassy, bloated balloon of a person. Then again, a sea-goat isn’t really appealing either. I actually think Cancer has it better than you. Just saying you’ll probably die alone.

Aquarius
Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes? You’re supposed to be Ganymede, Zeus’s personal “water carrier”. You don’t need me to tell you that water’s white and creamy. In fact, you represent ideal youth and beauty, and homosexual love. You’ve kind of won the jackpot. Milk it. Just like you do for Zeus when he’s bored of raping random women as various animals. Anyone else really turned on right now?

Pisces
Anyone else thinking there’s a lesbian joke in here somewhere? I’ll let you make it on your own; I’m better than that. Besides, there’s that whole do-it-yourself, Home Depot thing going on there. Though you might not have anything to fear should a U-Haul be in your near future complete with cat/child and a lifetime of married commitment. I’m not seeing any problem here.

Anonymous Gay Poet-In-Residence: A Very Gay Valentine’s Day

The mysterious AGPIR returns to enchant us with his gay verse. And after this one, I’m not sure he’ll have the limbs intact to write another. You’ll see why by the end of the poem. This can only end with him buried in a shallow grave. Though it may explain why both he and I remain single.

Another year has come and gone,
yet still I find myself alone.
I thought for sure I’d find the one
and have a valentine all my own.

Many prospects i have found,
yet none have managed to stick around.
Below are examples of a few
I see now why I’m single. Do you?

First there was Mike, now he was cute:
Six-pack abs, and a sweet smile too.
Locks of golden hair he wore,
but the moment he talked
I wanted to run out the door.

Along came Brad, now he was hot.
For this one would love me not.
He had a job, and money too,
but the boy was odd, and a little too taboo.

A month went by, and whom do I meet?
This stunning guy whose name was Pete.
He dressed so fine, and was so neat.
Little did I know he was into feet.

So if I can count right that makes three.
Let’s see if I can find some more,
I have always had good luck
with the number four.

So a different avenue I should try,
All I want to meet is a semi-normal guy!
Then, suddenly, my phone, it rings.
My best friend set up a blind date for me.

His name was Chris, but with a K,
my friend said, “he’s nice and friendly, and slightly gay”.
So off to coffee to meet this boy,
all excited I am, thrilled with joy.

I go to coffee, what do I find?
A flaming fag, and a voice like a whine,
dressed in pink from head to toe.
I sat at the table, looked right at him,
shook my head, and flat out said, “no!”.

So down and out I go home.
Yet again all alone.
What is with these boys I meet?
Never any luck happens to me.

So I sit, and begin to think:
perhaps it’s not them, it’s me.

So for all you boys, down and out
alone this day, going without,
perhaps it’s not the boys you see,
it’s because gay guys are so fussy.

Yeah, we’re both going to end up all sorts of alone.

[AGPIR’s sociopathy belies his tender, poetic soul. He writes poetry about the gay condition, and only occasionally bites the hand that feeds him. Meaning me. Hint.]